


Dates and cakes

by thejourneymaninn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cake, Dating, Fluff, M/M, Meddling Friends, Online Dating, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, background Hawke/Merrill - Freeform, lots and lots of cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 14:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12632610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejourneymaninn/pseuds/thejourneymaninn
Summary: Fenris only agreed to these ridiculous online dates to get his friends off his back. He isn’t actually looking for a relationship, so what does he care that the blonde man across from him seems more interested in his dessert than in him?He doesn’t, really. But it can’t hurt to find out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ethydium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethydium/gifts).



> For the lovely, kick-ass @damnedapostate, who also came up with the title.
> 
> I didn't have time to edit this, so yeah...sorry for the avalanche of typos and missing words.

“Let me get this straight: you are a _doctor_ who quit to run a _cat shelter_. Are you serious?”

“I don’t see what’s so difficult to understand about this, but yes, that’s what I am. Got a problem with that?”

“I have no reason to care either way. But after years of studying you must have debts as high as Sundermount. How exactly are you planning to pay them back? In fleas and hairballs?”

The man, _Anders_ , gave yet another indifferent shrugs “Oh well, they’ll have to find me first. And good luck with that.” His eyes remained fixed on the giant piece of cake on his plate, as they had been since the moment the waiter had placed it in front of him. Before that, they’d been busy scanning the menu. By now, it would surely have been within Fenris’ rights to complain about this blatant lack of attention – this _was_ supposed to be a date after all, yet until about five seconds ago, he hadn’t even noticed. Because he had done exactly the same.

He was only here for the cake. Or more precisely: the cake was the (highly sugary) carrot to distract him from the stick. _Sticks_ , to be precise. This wasn’t the first date his meddling friends had sent him on. And let’s face it, it wouldn’t be the last. After the last few weeks’ endless string of dolled-up faces, expensive suits, wasted hours of empty small talk, bragging and preening, he couldn’t claim his ‘match’s’ thinly veiled disinterest wasn’t a welcome change. It looked as though this date would be over quickly, with no objections on either side.

He took another spoonful of his cheesecake and gave his reluctant date another lazy once-over. At least five years older than on the picture Isabela had insisted warranted a swipe to the right, it was obvious Anders hadn’t taken too much care with his appearance, just gone through the motions of the bare minimum. Though nice enough, his clothes were heavily wrinkled, and it had clearly been a few days since his hair - a coppery blond that gleamed in the cafes’ soft light, messily tied together at the back of his head – had last had the pleasure of prolonged contact with water. He was lanky, scrawny even, but with the little pouch of a man not opposed to spending an entire weekend with his ass glued to the couch. Not an unattractive feature, Fenris could admit that much. Alright, he could go so far as to admit that the whole package wasn’t entirely unappealing. There was a sort of…derelict handsomeness about him, a spark of mischief in his voice that spoke of nights chased away by impassioned arguments and endless laughter…Which would, Fenris assumed, also explain the bags under his eyes. Eyes that burned with the intensity of a man who was, if nothing else, at least never boring. Well, unless he focussed all his attention on his dessert, of course.

Not that Fenris would have preferred it be on him. Others would, certainly, but Fenris wasn’t looking for something like that. He wasn’t looking for anything. And this stranger clearly wasn’t either.

He assumed social norms dictated he should be offended…but all he truly felt was amusement. Not only had the man inhaled his cake (and a giant mug of hot chocolate) in less than two minutes, he was already back to drooling onto the menu.

“You only agreed to this date as an excuse to eat cake, didn’t you?”

Ah. Finally. A reaction.

Anders’ head whipped around, wide eyes staring at him in shock. A shock that quickly seemed to pass; it took him only a couple of seconds to regain control, casual nonchalance slipping back into place on his pale face.

“Well…yes. I mean, you have pretty eyes and all – prettier than any of the other guys and gals I’ve met so far, actually - but the cake here is _fantastic_. What’s a man to do? Priorities, you know.” He shrugged again. He did, however, not look away.

“Of course. You misunderstood. I was not complaining, merely complimenting your…capacity. Another slice?” Fenris took a slow sip of his tea, flashing Anders a perfect arch of raised eyebrows across his steaming cup.

“Well, now that you ask…”

On the other side of the table, long fingers in desperate need of a manicure began drumming on the crumb-covered cloth. Fenris watched him in silence, not bothering to hide the quirk in his lip as Anders raised the long-empty mug to his lips and pretended to swallow its non-existent contents. After another minute or two, he cracked.

“Listen, it’s not you, ok? I’m just not interested in dating, I'm only doing this because my friends keep pestering me to stop moping and get out of my shell…”

“They sound like my friends. Although I believe their word of choice was ‘brooding’.”

“Hmm, yes, I can see how that would be a good fit for you.”

“Of course. Since you know me so well, can you also guess the colour of my underwear?” An unfair challenge, admittedly. Not even Isabela, his arguably closest friend, had ever managed that.

“No, of course not,” Anders admitted.

“I thought so. Perhaps—“

“Because you’re not wearing any.”

“…”

“You were saying?”

“I…will neither confirm nor deny that. And,” he added as an afterthought, “I am not going to ask _how_ you know that.”

“How I know what might or might not be a fact?”

“Exactly.”

Anders chuckled. “I must say, you’re being awfully chill about this whole ‘ignoring you like a total douchebag thing’.”

“Would you prefer it if I dramatically flipped the table?”

“Andraste’s confectionary, no!” Anders placed a hand on his heart, gasping theatrically. “Think of the cake!”

“I thought so. And like I said: they sound like my friends. I am only here for the cake myself.” Giving Anders a little smirk, Fenris gestured to the waiter. “Although I must say, at least _I_ made an effort not to look like a starving street artist.”

“No, you went for ‘jaded debonair billionaire who can’t decide if he’d rather lecture you on the wine card or steal your wallet’ instead.”

“That was…specific.”

“Yes, my friends like to complain I have an overactive imagination. “

“Shocking.”

“I usually enjoy dressing up, to be honest, it’s a nice change from cat hair and vomit.” He heaved a deep sigh. “But this is the _18th_ date my friends have sent me on since last month. They just won’t stop, no matter what I say. ‘Pounce – that’s my cat—“

“Why am I not surprised?”

“—does not count as company, Anders’. Ugh, they’re the worst.”

“I beg to differ. There is no way they are remotely as bad as mine.”

“Oh, yours are _nothing_ compared to mine. No matter what shit yours pulled, mine have done the same twice, _and_ worse.”

“Impossible.”

“Trust me, just yesterday Hawke, my best friend, and Aveline, who always acts like she’s _so_ high and mighty, lawful cop and all, conspired against me to…”

Anders was halfway through his longwinded (yet entertaining) account when their waiter arrived with two more slices of cake, and a second mug of hot chocolate for Anders. They both dug in at once, but busy as they were trying to one-up each other with stories of their friends’ transgressions, it took them significantly longer to empty their plates this time. When they’d finished, Anders placed another order, which was then devoured to yet more stories about more and more outrageous-sounding adventures. Flying crumbs aside, Fenris found he was…actually enjoying himself. Out of all his horrid dates, this one was the first that was in fact, not a nightmare of boredom and stifling politeness (not to mention the occasional lewdness). Of course, he still wasn’t looking for a date, but…this wasn’t really one, was it? It felt more like having cake with a…friend. A friend was different. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to have more of those…

Just then, Anders finished a story about a certain ‘Merrill’ and the suspicious disappearance of his sex tapes (“Yes, yes, roll your eyes, I was young and trim and I could go all night, you can’t _not_ preserve such a miracle of manhood, it would be unfair to future generations!”) with a refreshingly shameless burp. Patting his belly, he spared a forlorn glance for his empty plate before he lifted his head and flashed Fenris a grin. “Well, turns out tonight wasn’t such a bust after all… Perhaps we should meet again sometime for some more bitching about our friends. You know, to let off some steam. And eat more cake, of course, mustn’t forget the cake!”

“Sounds like a plan.” After a moment, he added, “But it’s not a date.” Just to be sure.

He watched Anders closely, but the mage (yes, a _mage,_ as he’d revealed sometime between the second and third piece of cake… well, Fenris was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for now) showed no signs of disappointment. “No, definitely not. No dates. Just bitching.”

Fenris nodded. “Perfect. I’ll give you my number.”

 

When Fenris left the café and headed for the bus stop, he checked his watch – and was surprised to see almost four hours had passed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Brrrp._

Anders picked up his phone, a giggle escaping him as he read the message that had popped up on the screen. How did the blighted elf always manage to make him laugh with only a handful of words?

“See, my pick wasn’t so bad after all, eh?” Hawke hopped onto the counter and slung an arm around his neck. “You’ve been texting this guy almost every waking minute.”

“Oh no, your taste is as horrible as ever. Set me up with a mage hater there, actually.” His expression softened as his phone vibrated again. “Though I’ll admit he isn’t so bad. Funny. In a ‘bare necessities of words’ kind of way. Smart, too. But we’re just friends, _nothing_ more, so stop peering over my shoulder.” He swatted at Hawke’s arm with his free hand. “There are no dick picks, no matter how many times you ask, they won’t magically appear.” He chuckled. “Oh, he’d hate that choice of words, next time I see him I should—“

“No dick picks?” Hawke pouted. “What else could possibly have you glued to your phone like this? What _are_ you two texting about?”

He shrugged. “Just everyday stuff. You know, all the little annoyances….Turns out his friends suck as much as mine.”

_Brrp._

“You mean _us_???”

Anders stopped replying to Fenris’ latest text long enough to meet Aveline’s stern frown with a mock salute. “Yep.”

“But you just said he was your friend too, does that mean he—“

“Merrill’s right.” Hawke poked his ribs. Her grin had taken on that certain quality. The _dangerous_ one. “Since he has newly achieved ‘friend’ status, it is now time for the _ritual_. You know, the ancient, sacred one, where we decide if he’s worthy. And maybe drink his blood.”

“And here we have the reason why you’ll _never_ meet him, not as long as I have a say in it, you’d—“

“Well, that’s just it, you don’t. I demand we meet him. As your _original_ friends, it’s our divine right.”

“Yes,” Merrill clapped her hands. “Let’s meet Anders’ new friend. I’m sure he’s nice, Anders’ isn’t nearly as grumpy when they talk… _Ooh._ But I’m a mage. Do you think he’ll hate me too?”

_Brrp._

_“No one_ could ever hate you, Merrill. It’s physically impossible. You’re everything pure and good in this world.”

“Oh,” she let out a brief, bubbly giggle. “ _Hawke_.”

Anders barely looked up from his phone. “I’m afraid you underestimate Fenris. His physique is capable of a great many things.”

“Do I detect a note of thirst there, Anders?”

“No, Hawke, _some_ people occasionally have other things on their minds. I was simply stating a fact.”

“By insulting my wife?” The way Hawke was dual-glaring daggers at him, Anders decided it was better to back down.

“Hey, you know I care about Merrill, and I’d never criticize her—“

“No?” Merrill turned to him, her large eyes shining, the very picture of innocence. “What do humans call it when you constantly tell someone they’re wrong then?”

“Ahem. Well. Never mind. I’m just saying he might not be such a fan of the risks you’re taking with your experiments. He might think – and I’m _not_ saying I agree with him – that tiny doesn’t mean harmless and that _some_ organisms are better left alone.”

_Brrp._

“Sounds like a sensible man. We could use someone like that. Desperately“

“What _exactly_ are you implying?” Anders bristled.

“You know—“

“Hey, no fighting in our house, remember?”

“Too bad that rule didn’t apply when we were kids,” Bethany piped up from the floor. She peered at them from above the rim of her glasses, finger pressed between the pages of her book. “Does anyone in your group ever let anyone finish a sentence, by the way, or do you all just—“

“Hey, I was the _best_ older sibling anyone could wish for, you’re lucky I never—“

“I’m sure you were lovely, Hawke. I wish I’d had a sister. We could have read each other stories, and moved away together, just like you!”

“Well, that answers that,” Bethany muttered, sinking back down onto the floor behind the couch.

_Brrp._

Anders bit back a smile and slid his phone into his pocket. “Yeah, well, I need to get going anyway, Meowstique and Pawfessor Purrvier are getting new owners today. I’ll see you guys tomorrow at Aveline’s.”

He was almost at the front door when Hawke called after him.

“Hey Anders, about dinner tomorrow…”

_It’s a trap._

Pretending he didn’t hear her, he walked the last few steps on tiptoe, opened the door as silently as he could and closed it behind him with a sigh of relief.

_Brrp._

He fished his phone out of his jeans, opened his messages – and froze.

 

_From: Captain Frownyface_

_Bring Fenris._

 

_Makerfuckingdammit._

 

 

The light on his phone announced the arrival of another message. Fenris put down his cards – careful not to get anywhere within range of Isabela’s wandering eyes – and picked it up. Quirking a smile, he typed a quick reply, then put it back down next to the bottle of what this shithole claimed was ‘beer’. Admittedly, his favourite shithole, with some of his favourite people.

“So, Elf, when do we get to meet this guy?”

“Yes, pretty boy, you know you can’t hide this mystery man from us forever.”

Well. He might have to rethink that last part.

“He is hardly a mystery.” He took another sip from his bottle, schooling his face into a bored expression. “Or have you forgotten _you_ were the one who selected him?”

Isabela waved an impatient hand at him. “Oh, that was weeks ago. And you know damn well their _faces_ aren’t usually what I remember…” His phone blinked again. As he picked it up, Isabela winked at him. “Come on, let me check out the goods. He must be really talented if he has you smiling like that. Tell me, does the doctor make _house calls_?”

“Nah, Rivaini, don’t you remember, they are ‘just friends’.”

 

_To: Anders_

_Varric just used air quotes. Actual air quotes._

_I fear I must rethink my choice of friends._

 

He put his phone down with a little smirk. Whatever Anders’ reply to this, he had no doubt it would be good.

Varric leaned back in his chair, his chin resting on his steepled fingers and a self-satisfied grin on his face.

“Yep, just like I said, that’s the way you smile when you text a ‘friend’.”

“If I were you, I’d be grateful his texts are keeping my fingers busy, lest I use them to strangle nosy dwarves.”

“You see Elf, that’s the problem. Knowing he keeps your murderous impulses at bay doesn’t make me want to meet this guy _less_.”

Sebastian cleared his throat. “If he doesn’t feel ready to introduce us, we shouldn’t pressure him.” _Wait for it._ “Although I must admit, it would make me feel better if I could be sure of this young man’s intentions. We’ve never met him, after all. And some people,” he gave Isabela a not at all subtle frown, “place way too much faith in modern technology.”

“While others think miracles will happen if they rub the Maker’s shiny bottom hard enough, we know pious boy, we know,” Isabela replied, patting his back in a way that was somehow simultaneously suggestive and patronizing. “You know Fenris, if you don’t introduce us to this new stallion soon, I’m going to have to find out where he lives and show up on his doorstep. Waste of my talents, don’t you think?”

Fenris gave a half-hearted huff that turned into a snort halfway through reading Anders’ reply.

“That good, eh? Let me see!”

“It is a _text_ , Isabela. The man is my _friend_. And a less importunate one than all of you at that.”

“And as such, we would like to welcome him into our little group. We could use another, eh, stabilizing influence.”

“You hear that, Elf, Choir Boy here needs someone to hold his hand when we get – what did he call it, Rivaini, _rambunctious_? You can’t deny the poor boring soul a new friend. Maker knows he’s not going to make any on his own.”

As he watched them roast Sebastian, Fenris couldn't decide whether to roll his eyes or to smile. Varric, one hand cradling his ale the other scratching his impressive chest hair, and Isabela, comfortably reclined in her chair with her feet propped up on the table…they had been the first friends he'd made in Kirkwall. In some ways, the first friends he’d made at all. He’d arrived in the city worn-out, with no coin to his name and not the slightest idea how to go about ‘settling down’, yet by some lucky coincidence, or as fools might call it, fate, he’d run into those two right on his first day. They'd immediately taken him under their wing, waved off his brusque behaviour and helped him make a home for himself. It had taken him a while to understand that inappropriate jokes and incessant meddling were their way of showing care. Well, that and drinks. Lots and lots of drinks.

He’d met Sebastian at the job they’d found him. His friendship was of a slightly different kind - more judgement, less meddling – and so were his usual pastimes, but occasionally, he’d tag along. Fenris still wasn’t entirely sure if Varric and Isabela actually liked Sebastian, or if they just enjoyed teasing him…

Another message. He stared at the screen for a long time. Finally, he typed,

 

_To: Anders_

_No need to apologize._

_I must admit I am curious…so…_

_I shall be there._

 

He slid his phone into his pocket, drowning his sigh in a gulp of beer. If Varric and Isabela were this bad _now_ , how much worse would it get once they found out he’d agreed to meet Anders’ friends for dinner tomorrow?

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, where's Bethany? Where’s my beautiful sunshine girl?”

“At home, as she should be. Merrill’s helping her with her studies.”

“Oh, come on, you spoilsport. No Kitten either?” Isabela dropped into the chair next to Fenris with a pout. “I had plans for tonight.”

“Gotta say, Hawke, I agree with Rivaini here. Let the girl live a little.”

Hawke rolled her eyes at Varric. “You two have been taking her out _every_ night for the past two weeks. She needs a break. You know the last years haven’t been easy for her—“

“I’d imagine it can’t have been easy for either of you.” Sebastian graciously slipped into the last empty seat. Anders chose to interpret that as the Maker’s way of telling him should go get the next round.

“Yes, but—“

“No buts,” Isabela cut her off. “You should all live a little. The girl’s curious, and there’s a whole world out there just waiting for the taking. What happened to your adventurous side? From what our sparkly boy told us, you used to be all about getting right into the midst of…things.”

Waiting for his order, Anders observed their dispute from a safe distance, a fond smile tugging at his lips. Overprotective meddlers plus…well, more overprotective meddlers tended to end in some sort of…meddle-geddon. Everyone was busy trying to take care of everyone. And busy being right, of course. Boy, did Hawke _love_ being right. He had to admit, seeing Isabela prove her wrong had become one of his little guilty pleasures.

_Well, everyone needs a hobby, right?_

And well, entertainment factor aside, it also meant his friends had less time to focus on him. Or Fenris. Talk about two birds and one stone…

He leaned back against the counter. The place – ‘the old shithole’ as Varric lovingly called it – wasn’t exactly known for its service. Or good drinks. Or clean glasses. Edible food. But as it was run by one of the dwarf’s many ‘contacts’, it had ended up being the place where all of them had come together for the first time, almost a year to the day. And for some unfathomable reason, they kept coming back. To the bar, and to each other.

They’d hit it off instantly. After less than two minutes of talking to Varric, Anders had known he’d just met his future best friend (well, _another_ best friend), and Fenris had immediately gotten along with Aveline. They’d bonded over…martial arts, perhaps, or how to maintain your glower, something like that, Anders tended to zone out during their conversations. And when all of them finally came together, it had quickly felt like…coming home, he supposed. Not that he was really qualified to judge when it came to that but…he’d never forget the gratitude he felt the first time he’d seen Hawke sprawled out on the floor, listening to Varric’s tales with tears in her eyes. Or when he’d watched Isabela teach Merrill and Bethany all about the art of body shots, Fenris curled up on a sofa in the background, soft amusement on his face. By then, Anders had heard enough about his past to know just how much that peaceful, relaxed posture really meant. And as for his friends’ pasts… Hawke, Bethany, and Aveline had in arrived Kirkwall under circumstances not much different from his own, and so had Merrill, even if they’d picked her up a little later along the way. A smile not weighed down by chains of grief was hard won for each of them. And there had been more and more of them as the year went by…

Had it really only been a year since their first meeting? Well, it hadn’t actually been a ‘first’ meeting for all of them. He could still recall how all blood had drained from his face when he’d first entered the bar and bumped right into _Isabela_. Someone he remembered all too vividly, from back when he…oh well, no need to dwell on that particular story, Fenris would no doubt bring it up again soon enough, considering how much the bloody elf seemed to enjoy teasing him about it.

The groups’ first meeting with Donnic, however, was a memory Anders was more than happy to relive any day, anytime. Because as it turned out, Sebastian and Aveline had also met before. Well, by proxy.

”Didn’t I arrest you a few times, a couple of years ago? That was you, wasn’t it? That one time has become a legend at the precinct…”

None of them had ever truly got over the revelations that followed. And just like that, Donnic had become Anders’ new favourite person.

Sebastian himself had merely shrugged, “I have left that path of sin behind me.”

He'd acted all cool and composed, sure but Anders had noticed that blush, oh yes, _can't fool me Priestman._

Yeah, alright, it hadn’t been instant love and sunshine between _all_ of them. Anders looked over at Fenris, biting back a grin as he thought of all the times he'd caught him muttering something behind Merrill’s back. Their eyes met across the room and they both shook their head with a smile. Some bonds hadn’t come quite as naturally as others, still, they’d all just…converged, gradually, two sets of horrible, wonderful friends molding themselves into a little family of bad habits and great love.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a sharp poke in the ribs. Not bothering with words, or even so much as a smile, Norah handed him their drinks.

 

“Anders, have you been telling stories about me again?” Hawke confronted him when he returned to their table.

He shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do, reveal _my own_ sordid past?”

“Oh, _I_ could help with that…”

“Please. I am all ears.”

“Alright, that’s it.” He gave Isabela and Fenris his most impressive scowl. As usual, it failed to impress. Well, time for the big guns then. Still holding their beers, he stepped away from the table. “I’m cutting you both off.”

Apparently still not impressed, Isabela chuckled. “Ah, no need to get your panties all twisted, sweet thing, I promise we’ll be good. Right, Fenris?”

“Like model citizens.”

“See? Now sit your pretty ass down.” Reaching for her beer with one hand and collecting her winnings with the other, Isabela turned her attention back to Hawke. “We should really go on another adventure. There’s this haunted house out near the cliffs, they build it on top of this old mine, you know, the one that used to be full of dragons.”

“Dragons. Of course.” Fenris coughed into his beer.

“We should go check it out.” Isabela insisted. “It’ll be fun.”

“I…would really rather not.”

“And _I_ have an actual job. One that requires regular attendance.”

“So, the police and the clergy are out. Such a pity. We’ll send you a card. Come on, Hawke. You said you wanted to take Kitten out on a special date. Tell me this isn’t perfect!”

“History, ancient myths, and half-truths, and the way I know our Daisy, probably a chat with a ghost or two…Count me in.”

“So, that’s me, Varric…and you, Bethany, and Kitten?” Isabela twisted around in her chair. Pushing her body up the table until her face was right below Hawke’s, she grinned up at her.

“Alright, alright. It _does_ sound like something Merrill would enjoy. And I could use a day or two away from Kirkwall. Anders, Fenris, was about you?”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Yeah, what he said. I can’t think of a single thing I want to do _less_. But don’t worry, we’ll find something else to do...Right, Fenris?”

“Cake and bitching?”

“Good man.”

Isabela and Hawke exchanged a _look_.

Well, that didn’t bode well at all.

“Speaking of cake and bitching…”

_And here we go again._

For the past few months, while they were all busy working out the kinks in their new dynamic, both he and Fenris had largely been spared their friends’ matchmaking attempts, but a couple of weeks ago, they had returned at full force. Worse. With _joined_ forces.

“Please, Hawke, can we go back to talking about ghosts and murder? Suddenly, that doesn’t sound all that bad anymore…”

“Hey, you brought this on yourselves, we were all rooting for you and Fenris, but since you’ve decided to be idiots—“

“For the _last time_ Isabela, we're just friends.”

“Well, in that case, it's back in the ring for both of you,” Hawke chimed in.

It was time for him and Fenris to exchange their own _look_. Resistance was futile; they both knew it, but they could at least minimize their suffering.

He sighed. “Alright...but _only_ if you arrange for our dates to take place in the same location and at the same time. That way, if it sucks—“

“Which it will,” Fenris cut in.

“—we can at least finish our cakes together and bitch about it.”

“Sure, that’s easily done…And come to think of it, _that_ was a little too easy as well.” Hawke narrowed her eyes at him.

He withstood her glare for a valiant twenty seconds.

“Alright, alright,” he finally cracked. “I admit it. I _might_ actually be ready for something new… _Perhaps_. And only if I actually _like_ one of them,” he added, trying to squash his friends’ roars of triumph.

“Hey, have we ever failed you?” Hawke grinned, gesturing at Fenris.

As Anders looked over at him, at his raised eyebrows and the yawn he was stifling behind his cards, he couldn’t help a smile spreading across his face. They had a point there. There was no one he’d rather watch a dumb movie with, or eat his way from the top to the bottom of the menu, or spend all night having animated discussions (and prove that all of Fenris’ opinions were wrong and Anders was right, yes! Well, alright, _most_ of his opinions. There was the occasional gem in the mud.) When he was feeling low, he knew who to call. And he also knew how to cheer Fenris up when he disappeared back into his apartment (and into himself). The elf had so quickly become one of his closest friends, it was hard to imagine there had ever been a time when he hadn’t been part of his life. And it wasn’t just him. Varric, Isabela, and to some extent, Sebastian – he did make good brownies, you had to give him that - card nights, road trips…none of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for an overbearing friend swiping right. But it had happened and now he felt…lighter. Happier. Ready to get back out there. Perhaps it truly was time to give it another shot.

So why did something feel…off? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was an itch at the back of his mind, like a distant voice trying to tell him something of vital importance.

Maybe it was just the alcohol.


	4. Chapter 4

‘Their’ place…at least that was how Fenris had come to think of it. The little café where they’d first met. Unpretentious, reasonably priced, a touch shabby but all the more comfortable for it. They’d been here many times over the last year, and now they were here again – just not at the same table. Anders had said he was ready to date again. Was Fenris ready as well? He had no idea; it wasn’t the kind of thing he tended to dwell on. He had his freedom, he had a home, he had more friends than ever. He had people he could trust - and someone who had proven, time and time again, that he would always be there for him. Now it was Fenris’ turn to there for _him_. If Anders was ready and needed his support, he would give it to him.

“The bird did _what_?” Anders' voice carried over from the far side of the room, shaking with laughter.

Fenris’ mouth curled into a thin line. Well, heroics aside, he’d hardly have been able to avoid this charade anyway. His friends might not have gone so far as to physically drag him here, but they’d never have shut up about it, going on and on and on until Fenris eventually would have broken down. This way, he at least got to walk here (and back home) in Anders’ company, and they could roll their eyes at each other when their chosen dates turned out to be as annoying as they’d feared. On paper, the arrangement had sounded perfect. But as it turned out, watching Anders laugh and flirt from afar wasn't fun at all. Fenris could barely even concentrate on his cake, eh, date.

“What? No, I was not born in Kirkwall, I…” 

He trailed off. Anders had picked up his phone and was now holding it out to the red-haired woman across from him with a stupid grin on his face. A stupid grin Fenris knew only too well. Was he...Venhedis, he _was_ showing her pictures of Pounce, wasn’t he? Fenris felt a nasty, icy feeling settle in the pit of his stomach, and it refused to be shoved down with cake.

He didn't know what exactly was so bad about the thought of Pounce purring in a lap that was neither his nor Anders’ but for some mysterious reason, it _was_ bad. Very bad. One might even go so far as to say _catastrophic_.

So far, none of Anders’ dates had gone as alarmingly well as this one. In fact, some of them had been downright disastrous. There’d been that unacceptably handsy fellow Anders eventually doused with hot chocolate, or the guy who threw down his napkin and stormed out less than five minutes in (to this day, “And I thought _you_ were bad about mages” remained all Anders had offered by way of explanation).

But then there had also been that day when Fenris had - with an inexplicable, growing unease – witnessed Anders nervously wipe his hair out of his eyes for a pretty blonde elf with facial tattoos. And who could forget (not Fenris, that much was clear) the bulky guy with the sweet tooth Anders had actually _shared_ a piece of cake with.

Anders had later shrugged off both incidents with a casual, “Awesome guy, but not my type. Looks like I’m only in it for the cake after all,” but…was he still? Judging by the way he and his date were currently cooing over the pictures on his phone, he might very well have changed his mind…

Fenris shook his head, trying to focus his attention back on his own “date of the day”. He had to admit, most of the people he’d met with so far hadn't actually been all that bad – it would seem the combined forces of Hawke and Isabela produced significantly better results. Yet as charming and attractive as his partners had been, none of them had managed to steal his attention from Anders for more than a few minutes. One girl, remarkably pretty and soft-spoken with a melodic Antivan accent, had even patted his hand with a pitying look on her face halfway through their date.

“Your ex?”

“What? No. No. Just a...friend.”

“Of course. My mistake. I take it he is a…good friend?”

“I apologize. I did not mean to be rude.”

“Oh, no,” she replied with an adorable little chuckle he might, under different circumstances, have instantly fallen for. “Please don't worry. Not that I am not enjoying your company, but…I hope that is not too bold an admission… I’m only here to appease my family.”

“Ah. You should try the cake then.”

She'd been kind enough to drop the subject, pretending to study the menu while he…studied Anders. Her last words of goodbye, however, had been a whispered, “You mustn't give up hope. He’s been looking too. More often than you, as far as I can tell. Thank you for the cake. It was delicious.”

As his current date droned on about the history of the Chantry, he risked another glance at Anders’ table. They were still giggling, leaning towards each other with open, smiling faces. The knot in his stomach grew larger.

Time to face the tiger then, to stop pretending he didn't know what that woman (Venhedis, he couldn’t even remember her _name_ ) had been talking about. There was no enjoying his cake while Anders was enjoying the company of someone else.

For the first time in his life, Fenris realized, he _did_ want a date.

Unfortunately, he didn’t want it with the woman sitting at his table. No, it had to be with one, very specific person.

And that person was currently busy sharing a chocolate mousse with someone else. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Fasta vas! One moment!”

Anders let go of the bell push with a frown. Through the door, he could hear a loud thud followed by another burst of multilingual swearing. Huh. Sure, he _was_ a little early picking up Fenris for their date...Alright, _dates_. Plural. And with other people. But well...he had sort of made different plans and had wanted to surprise Fenris. Obviously, the ‘surprise’ part had worked. If not quite the way he'd intended…

The door swung open to reveal Fenris standing behind it. A remarkably disheveled Fenris in rumpled clothes, with flour in his hair and…was that _chocolate_ …on his nose?

“Hey, ahem, well, sorry for interrupting, I guess? I know I’m early but…not _that_ early, right? Just… what exactly happened here…?”

“It is fine.”

_Well, if it’s fine why are you talking to the empty hallway behind me? Hello, my eyes are right here._ _And I’ve been told they aren’t all that bad either._

Before he could make up his mind on whether to actually _say_ any of this, Fenris had turned around and begun walking towards his kitchen.

“Come in.”

 

If the elf looked like a mess, it was nothing compared to his kitchen. Every surface was covered in flour; there were bowls, pans, dirty spoons and heaps of eggshells everywhere Anders looked and on the kitchen table—

He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Varric taught me how to make them.”

Anders took a short break from his open-mouthed staring at the five cakes in front of him - each a different flavour and frosting as far as he could tell - to shoot Fenris an incredulous look.

“I thought you would like a…selection of your favourites. So there would be no need to go out…” He cut off abruptly when Anders’ began to chuckle, ears drooping and shoulders sagging. “I see. It was merely an idea.”

Internally cursing himself, Anders quickly put down his bag and pulled out a slightly misshapen, chocolatey lump. He held it out to Fenris with an, he hoped, encouraging smile.

“Yes, it seems we both had the same one. And it would seem Varric is a better teacher than Hawke. I know this doesn’t stand a chance against those works of art over there but…it’s for you.”

Some of the tension seemed to leave Fenris’ body. He took a hesitant step in Anders’ direction. 

“I thought maybe you would consider…cancelling your date? We can have cake here. If you wish, I can make a new one every day. For you.”

“I…already did. Actually, ahem,” Anders cleared his throat, rather more awkwardly than he would have liked in that particular situation, “I cancelled all my dates.”

“I am glad to hear that.” _A curt nod? That’s all?_

“So did you…cancel yours?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Fenris took another step in his direction. “There was nothing to cancel, as I had none. I stopped setting up new ones a week ago.”

“ _Oh_.” Anders’ tongue flicked out before he could stop it, nervously wetting his lips. “That is…even better.”

“In the future, perhaps we could take turns baking cake? And eat it…together?”

“I'd like that.” Fenris was standing so close to him that he could easily reach out, wipe the chocolate off his nose and lick it off his finger. He resolved to do just that if…well, _if_. “I couldn’t really enjoy any of my dates.”

“You looked as though you were having fun. On that…last one.”

“She was nice, yes, but…the cake is just not the same without the bitching.”

“I agree.”

“And…it’s not the same without _you_ …” Well, he’d said it. Now all that was left to do was spend an endless time in hell waiting for a reply.

“Yes,” Fenris nodded slowly. “Even though I was with someone else, it felt lonely. I missed you.” He drew his lips between his teeth, not quite looking at Anders. “You said you were ready to date again—“

“—I know, but—“

“I have come to realize that…I am too.” Fenris lifted his head and Andraste have mercy, those eyes would be the death of him. “With the right person.”

As always when he was both hopeful and nervous, Anders lost control of his facial muscles. Well, if Fenris still liked him (he _did_ like him, right??? Anders wasn’t just imagining things???) after witnessing this grimace of vapidity and constipation vaguely resembling a grin, there was a good chance nothing would ever make him stop.

“So…we’re both ready, then. And we have cake. Sounds perfect to me. I’m in. Definitely in. All in. Just…could we perhaps, you know, occasionally swap bitching for…kissing?”

Mouth quirking into a smile, Fenris lifted himself up on the tips of his toes and did just that.

“Make that ‘constantly’, and we have a deal.”

 


End file.
